


5 Dollars

by MyOwnWorstCritic



Category: NCIS
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-16
Updated: 2008-12-16
Packaged: 2019-08-21 02:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16567730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOwnWorstCritic/pseuds/MyOwnWorstCritic
Summary: She takes the velvet box from him, while noticing that his fingers are trembling, having nothing to do with the cold.Post Silent Night.





	5 Dollars

She's standing in the kitchen, watching the snow fall outside her window. The white dust-like snowflakes fall down from the sky, and when one sticks to her window, she smiles.

She knows his car was right behind hers, but that was at the beginning of the ride home, and let's face it, she drives faster than he does. She decides to get a jump-start on things and gets two wine glasses out of a cupboard. Carrying them towards the living room, she puts them on the coffee table.

Really wanting to get into their mixed-cultures feeling, she turns on the lights that are haphazardly hanging from the medium-sized Christmas tree. They flicker for a while, and then decide to stay on one pattern. She lights all seven of the Menorah-candles. She sits down on the couch and is reaching for the remote to the plasma screen TV, when she notices she forgot the wine. She gets up and walks back to the kitchen.

Opening a cupboard she reaches up. Damn him. Why did he insist on keeping the wine in one of the highest cupboards? She rolls her eyes, because she knows why. It's just so he can leer at her. As he is doing now. When her senses are heightened, and she gets a tingling sensation starting in her upper body.

He knows she knows he's there. And he knows she knows that he knows, that she knows he's there. Wait—no, too confusing. He's not gonna think about that now. Not when she's wearing her skimpy black silk robe and probably nothing else. And not when she's standing on her tiptoes trying to get the wine from the cabinet. And especially not when her long, slender legs are exposed to him, the robe now barely covering her ass.

He's holding a black bag in his hand, but he places it on the counter next to him and slowly walks over to her.

She's still struggling, and he places a hand on her hip. The other one reaches up and easily grabs a wine bottle from the cupboard. When she slides down, he groans, because she rubbed him exactly the way he likes it; quite literally.

She chuckles and turns around, facing him. She finds herself pinned between his body and the granite-top counter; one of his hands on either side of her body. He knows that at any other given time, it's a dangerous position, because she can effortlessly twist his arm and get out of the provocative situation.

But not now.

Now she has a glint in her eyes, a sparkle that says he's gonna enjoy what's about to come next. He lowers—well, more like she lifts, but that's not important at the moment—his lips to hers and he gently pries her mouth open with his tongue.

She refuses him and instead bites down on his lower lip.

He likes that her hair is already un-braided: much as he likes to undo her hair and run his hands through her brown wavy locks, he prefers to do that at a time where they're  _not_  kissing. He runs his hand through her hair and stops at the back of her head, pulling a bit and tilting her head upwards, so he can kiss her better.

Her hands link behind his head and play with the hair at the base of his neck. His idle hand trails a path down her body and stops behind her knee, pulling it upwards. She changes the destination, and instead wraps her leg around his, making him come closer than he already is. His hand now rests under her upper thigh. His other hand reluctantly leaves her head full of hair and moves to right under her other thigh.

He easily lifts her onto the counter and she gasps at the coldness. He takes this opportunity to push his tongue into her hot waiting mouth. He feels her smile into the kiss. Wanting to punish her for teasing him at work today, just as he's about to deepen the kiss even more, he leaves her mouth in favor of her neck and collarbone.

She groans, but moves her head aside anyway, exposing more kissable skin to him. Her legs are now hooked behind his back. She pushed his suit jacket off him, dropping it on the counter next to her.

With a simple motion, he sweeps her off the counter and carries her to the living room, gently laying her down on the couch, their fused lips never separating. She wants to pull him on top of her, when he pulls away.

"I'm gonna go change," he whispers into her ear, and she almost shivers at his voice. He walks away, returning a few minutes later wearing shorts and a tank top with an Ohio State sweater.

He seems to remember about the stuff in the kitchen and detours to said room, coming back with the wine, his suit jacket, which he hangs up on the coat-rack and a black bag. He opens the bottle and pours an amount in both glasses, handing one to her.

They clink glasses and drink a bit and he is the one who puts his glass back on the coffee table, replacing it with the black bag.

"Happy Hanukkah," he says and gives her the bag.

"Tony, we already exchanged our gifts," she replies, not opening it just yet.

"I know, but I got you something extra." She regards him carefully, wondering what he's got up his sleeve; she knows he has  _something_  planned. She just isn't sure what.

She pulls out a dark, navy blue bow and opens it. She finds wrapping paper and gently pries it open. Inside, lays a white wooden angel. Written in black text on it is ' _Marry me, my ninja?_ '

She looks up at his face and then sees a black velvet box in his hands. She takes the velvet box from him, while noticing that his fingers are trembling, having nothing to do with the cold. She opens it and can barely hold back a gasp.

Inside, surrounded by black velvet, is possibly the most beautiful ring she's ever seen. It's white gold and a single diamond lies in the middle, surrounded by smaller oval-shaped diamonds. It's not big and flashy and it's not too small and it's perfect for her.

He's still holding his breath. She hasn't said no. But she hasn't said yes either. Her speechlessness is the main cause of his inner turmoil; he hasn't ever seen her  _this_ speechless before and he's just a tad bit scared.

"Ziva..." he gently coaxes, and it's then that she realizes she hasn't said anything for the past five minutes, as she looks at the clock. It's been only five minutes? Seems like so much more.

"Yes," she whispers and smiles a shy smile.

It takes all of three seconds for him to register her answer, before he breaks out into a grin. He takes the ring out of its surrounding and lifts her left hand, sliding the ring onto her ring finger.

She finally places her wine glass on the coffee table next to his. The white angel also ends up on the table as she straddles him, kissing him passionately.

"I love you, Tony," she murmurs. He pulls away, just long enough to look her in the eyes.

"I love you too, Zee-vah."

And with that, he lifts her and walks to the bedroom, where they don't rest until a few hours later when Christmas day is over and it is technically the 26th. She lays half on top of him with her arm thrown over his broad chest. His hand is tangled in her hair and the other wrapped around her waist.

That is how they lay; awake, for hours, contemplating the day's events. That is, until Ziva breaks the silence.

"Tony, you owe me 5 dollars."


End file.
